Moxley, intrigued but still wary, "Why did you help us back at the laboratory? You seemed like you wanted to protect us."
Lucius, his gaze shifting away for a fleeting moment, let out a grudging sigh.
"Hate mutants more than I hate humans," he rasped, his voice a low growl. "They took everything from me."
Martha, with her soothing voice "Is there anything we can do, Lucius? Any way to ease your burden?"
Lucius scoffs, "Help? I don't need anyone's help. I've survived on my own for a long time."
Moxley chimed in. "So, what's your next move? Sharing a roof, or back to the shadows?"
Lucius grumbled "Sticking around for now," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. "Beats being swallowed by the shadows alone."
Lucius showing a rare vulnerability, opens up further. "Had children once, you know. They were the reason I tried to resist Dr. Fredrich's experiments. But in the end, they too succumbed to the mutation. One of Fredrich's creations killed them."
The room fell silent, the weight of Lucius' words pressing down on them like a shroud. The survivors, each carrying the scars of their own losses, met his gaze with a shared understanding of the pain he bore.
Lucius, after a moment of contemplative silence, speaks up once again, "You know, not all mutants are mindless beasts. Most of them, sure, but there are exceptions. Mutants with a mind of their own, like me."
Moxley, his weathered face creased with curiosity, leaned forward. "Mutants with minds of their own?"
Lucius elaborated. "The doctor," he spat, his voice laced with venom,
"he doesn't care about consciousness. He sees us all as rabid hounds, fit only for destruction. Some mutants retained their consciousness, their memories, and their humanity."
Martha voiced the question hanging in the air. "So you're saying there are mutants out there, not just mindless killing creatures?"
Lucius nods, "Exactly. They might be different from us, but they're not all mindless killers. Some are just trying to survive, like everyone else in this hellish world."
Ciel, who has been listening silently, chimes in, "I have encountered mutants with signs of residual intelligence. It's a rare occurrence, but it happens."
Lucius, catching the skepticism in their eyes, adds, "Look, I'm not saying we should trust every mutant we encounter. It's survival of the fittest out there. But we might find allies in unexpected places if we keep our minds open."
Moxley, still uncertain, crossed his arms. "So your deal is this? We help you stop the doctor, and in return, we give these 'good' mutants a chance? A big risk, wouldn't you say?"
Lucius let out a harsh laugh, the sound cutting through the tension. "Don't get me wrong, old man," he said with a smirk.
"I hate the doctor's plans, not because he messed up mutants, but because he messed me up. And yes," his voice hardened, "call it a risk. But it might just be the edge we need. Trust me, the day might come when a mutant saves your skin, not out of kindness, but because sometimes, in this mess, survival means strange alliances."
The survivors nodded in agreement.
Hours later, Jake, his weathered face gaunt with hunger, shifted the worn straps of his backpack, a low grumble escaping his lips.
"Gonna make a quick run," he announced, his voice rasping like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "Haven't filled my belly in days man"
Moxley furrowed his brow. "Nightfall, Jake? You know the streets are flooding with those creatures after dark."
From behind Jake, a gruff voice cut through the tension. "I'll come along," Lucius growled,
"Shut up, I can handle myself." Lucius added
Moxley, caught off guard, let out a surprised chuckle. "Alright, alright," he conceded, his unease momentarily soothed by Lucius' unexpected offer. Maybe two sets of eyes in the dark were better than one.
But even as Jake and Lucius melted into the night, swallowed whole by the inky blackness, a gnawing doubt gnawed at Moxley's gut.
The night was a fickle beast, its secrets whispered on the wind. Trusting two figures swallowed by its depths felt like a gamble with fate, a dice roll where the stakes were their very lives
Martha, her face etched with the lines of a life lived on the edge, mirrored Moxley's concern. "Letting them go alone?"
Moxley met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "Jake's starving," he admitted, the words tasting like ashes in his mouth.
"And Lucius… well, he owes us after saving our necks back there. Besides," he added, forcing a smile that felt brittle as glass, "he looks like he could take on a whole pack of mutants with his bare hands."
The night passed slowly, tension hanging thick in the air as the survivors huddled in the shelter, waiting for Jake and Lucius to return.
The night was shrouded in darkness as Lucius and Jake encountered an imposing figure of the powerful cyborg. Its metallic exterior gleamed in the moonlight, an intimidating presence against the backdrop of the desolate city.
Lucius voiced a low rumble. "Hold your metal, whoever you are. We're just passing through."
The figure, a prototype cyborg, whirred into motion, its cold, emotionless eyes scanning them with predatory efficiency. "Identify yourselves. State your purpose."
Lucius, unfazed by the cyborg's robotic stare. "Names ain't worth much these days, tin can. We're survivors, same as you, just trying to keep breathing in this mess. You?"
The cyborg's voice, devoid of any human warmth, cut through the air like a blade. "My designation: Prototype cyborg. My mission: Eliminate mutants. Ensure survival of uninfected humans."
Jake, his hand nervously clutching the bag of scavenged supplies, chimed in, "Then we're on the same side. We been cleaning up mutants ourselves. What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
Lucius motioned for Jake to step back. "Stay out of the way, kid. This one looks tougher than the mutants we've faced."
The cyborg hesitated, its mechanical gears grinding in a semblance of thought. "Detected mutant activity. Directive: Eradicate. Your assistance: Unnecessary."
Lucius snorted, crossing his arms with defiance. "Don't need your fancy tech to survive, cyborg. Been doing just fine on our own, thank you very much."
The cyborg's eyes, devoid of any flicker of understanding, narrowed. "I am a perfected creation, honed for efficiency. Unlike unpredictable mutants, I follow directives without question."
Jake, sensing the rising tension, "Hold it, fellas. The mutants won't wait for us to settle our differences."
Lucius scoffed. "Easy for you to say, kid. But let's see you trust a tin soldier after seeing them burn villages and turn people into lab rats."
The cyborg remained unmoved "Purpose: Eliminate mutants. Protect humans. That is all."
Lucius scoffed, "Sounds like Fredrich. You can't tell me you haven't questioned his methods. There's a reason he has us fighting mutants instead of finding a cure."
The cyborg remained unfazed by Lucius' emotional outburst. Its robotic voice, devoid of any human warmth, droned on,
"Emotion is a liability. My function is governed by logic and efficiency. The eradication of mutants and the preservation of uninfected humans are my sole directives."
A thick silence followed, heavy with the unspoken threat of violence.
Jake, caught in the crossfire, shifted nervously, the scavenged supplies in his bag feeling like dead weight under his trembling hand.
Lucius, his eyes blazing with defiance, took a step forward, the moonlight catching the glint of a makeshift blade strapped to his forearm.
"Efficiency? Logic? Sounds a lot like the same twisted logic Fredrich uses to justify his monstrosities. You see them as threats, but maybe, just maybe, they're the victims too."
"Mutants are classified as a pathogen, a threat to be neutralized. Your sentimentality clouds your judgment, human." The cyborg replied
The air grew thick with the anticipation of violence. Lucius, fueled by his own pain and distrust, seemed ready to charge at the cyborg, his arm-morphed blade glinting in the moonlight.
The cyborg, on the other hand, stood poised and cold, its metallic frame humming with unseen power.